Mental Illness

[NotAnAverageGuy]

Originally Posted by JustLovelyJenn

I haven't posted about writing, yet... because I wasn't sure exactly how to express why and when I write, but this really acted as a catalyst for my explanation. I can and have written both happy and sad, however I actually tend to write MORE when I am happy. When I am going through any sort of depression, one of my major contributors to my anxiety and depression is that my head seems to be too full, moving too fast, and I can not piece things together in a way that seems coherent or logical. Because of this it is more difficult for me to write at these times. I write a lot when I am happy, mostly music... but some poetry... If I do write when I am depressed it is only when I seem to have been pushed to a point of obsessing on a particular worry or thing that is or has happened. Then I write, and its always very dark then. Poetry, never music, and frequently vivid analogies and representations. The other thing I notice about my poetry from these periods is that I use it to force myself to see a good, a reason to move past whatever the issue is. Its my way of driving myself back into the light. Even with the dark imagery, there is always a message of hope... I would love to share one of these with you.

Phoenix

Bright and beautiful my soul is drawn to the flames
Drawn in and bewitched
I am warmed by the heat of the fire
I see by its glow
And I walk further
Stepping into the heart of the blaze
For an instant there is heaven
An undaunted happiness before the pain
Then what I held so precious becomes and inferno
Burning out of control
Taking compassion, affection, friendship, more
And twisting it
Turning it deep and dangerous
Bright colors lick at my skin
Scalding first
Then scorching
Devouring my flesh
Scoring to the bone
And then
Nothing
What I am is gone,
Disintegrated by the intensity before me
Around me
Without me to feed it the heat wanes
Dies away
After the last flame is gone
I remain as ashes
Paralyzed and unfeeling
Distanced from the world around me
Yet still I walk
Still I talk and listen, work and bleed
But never cry
Never morn what was lost
Time passes and stands till
Weather changes, coursing through me
New eyes
And I cry, I morn and live again
Rising from the ashes of love past
Stronger, safer, wiser
I have felt the heat and the pain
Experienced the bliss and the loss
Now I know its worth
For just a moment of what I have know
It is worth a million deaths to find again
New eyes
Brown with golden specs
Beckoning, calling
And I fly
Soaring into the heavens and back again
I may land or I may not
But the chance is worth a million deaths

I am the same mostly, with writing mostly when happy, when down my bi polar has my head going 90 to nothing and other stressers so writing doesn't come up to the forefront of top things to do on my list.